The Miracles of Marriage, Book 5 of The Moralities of Marriage
by elizabethann.west.7
Summary: **NOW in Kindle Unlimited with entire series thus far***. Doing my best to get my whole publishing empire chugging along again after my divorce :) This story follows the Darcys, Bennets, Bingleys, and Fitzwilliam in the autumn of 1812 after Longbourn has burned and the mining scheme started by Lord Strange is being investigated. Can the Darcys new marriage weather these storms?
1. Chapter 1

A/N** So Book 4 is here on this site, Books 1-3 are on my site. I am desperately trying to get BACK to writing a story each month, so I can't promise I will get Books 1-3 posted here in the near future, but they are available to read for free on my site. Book 5 is up for preorder direct and on Amazon, it will also publish to all other vendors on July 25. I WILL get all of the chapters posted here going in through August... so you do not HAVE to buy the book to get the story. I'm just one person, though, trying to get back on her writing horse ;) - Elizabeth Ann West Thank you so much for reading, you rock! **

Since the murder of George Wickham hit The Times in August 1812, the street outside Darcy House in London buzzed for weeks with abnormal activity. Without the family in residence, the front path before the door contained a motley mix of men from sailors to coppersmiths, alternating from yells to jeers for most of the day. They stayed on the street side of the iron gate, blocking the walk and oftentimes congesting traffic.

Inside, Mr. Darcy's staff kept life running, as usual, utilizing the back doors that led them down alleys to the far side of the block behind the carriage house. The mob had not braved the catacombs of Mayfair to Berkely and Piccadilly and its rivers of slop running between the city homes of great men.

"Why have they nowhere to go? Where's the Watchman?" the young footman Jack asked as he peeked out the front window. Arrested with fascination, the growing unrest stirred in him an equal part of admiration and disgust. He couldn't fault the men wanting their due, but he found the display unsettling and against the rule of law.

Jack's own situation was just as precarious. He was grateful the master's sister had been taken to Kent as she had insisted he perform as her lover. While he missed the release of passion, he did not miss the discord. Mrs. Wickham's moods were very unpredictable, and the position it had put him in with the rest of the staff and Mrs. Potter had left him without allies. Unsure if he would even have a job when the master returned, Jack sloughed off more than he worked, a policy that wouldn't help his case if it was put before Mr. Darcy.

"They're angry. They've lost their money; spent where they shouldn't, and believe Mr. Darcy shall fix it," Mrs. Potter retorted as she also stole a wary glance at the escalating situation.

She agreed with Jack about the Watchman. Usually, the crowd would be dispersed every hour, but she had not seen such an effort since the previous day. The faces changed out in the masses as Catherine Potter warily observed most days from a window on the third floor when she was checking the maids' work. But today felt different, there was a charge in the air, and even she felt uneasy. As she joined Jack to look over his shoulder, her intuition proved correct.

A chunk of rotting cabbage sailed over the iron fence and landed near the front steps. The mob cheered and soon a second handful of rotting vegetation followed, more and more heaping upon the steps. Scowling, the housekeeper turned away and applied the same logic to the footman.

"The question is why do you have nowhere to work? Is the silver finished? Have the stores been dusted?"

"That's for the maids!" Jack scoffed, as Mrs. Potter gave him a glare of stark dismay.

"The maids, is it?" She grabbed Jack by the crook of his arm as the stockier and more senior footman, Stephen, appeared. "Perhaps you'd prefer to find work elsewhere entirely!"

"There you be! I wondered where you slagged off to!" The older footman tossed a polishing rag at Jack as Mrs. Potter released him, causing Jack to stumble a few steps towards the dining room.

"The family is not even here. Who will know if we take a day off?" Jack asked, shaking the dirty rag he had involuntarily caught to prevent the filth from hitting his face.

"Who will know? I will know! And the master will know. We tolerated long enough the tough spot Mrs. Wickham placed you in, but she's gone and you either need to fall back in line or leave without a reference since you deserve none." Mrs. Potter advanced on Jack's position as Stephen stood next to her to close ranks. "Do not allow a brief liaison with a lonely woman to puff up your ego. I hear the factories are hiring on the Southside," Mrs. Potter smiled as Jack sauntered off back to work and didn't listen to more of the lecture. She muttered about how grueling factory work would be compared to the minor task of polishing silver even without her intended audience.

A louder chanting began to echo from outside, and Stephen took sentry at the window to spy the growing tensions. The crowd started yelling in unison, "Open the gate!"

"There's more than yesterday," he commented.

Mrs. Potter frowned and sighed. For a spell, the two more senior staff members listened to the yelling. The unison would fall apart for a cacophony cry for justice, then swell again.

"They cry for justice," the senior footman remarked as a sharp burst of sound hit the door, startling them both. Then another report rang out, then three in a synchronized volley.

"Are they throwing—"

"Get away from the window!" Mrs. Potter yelled as Stephen just missed a heavy stone crashing through the glass. The four-inch half of brick landed with the shards on the pristine marble floor of the entryway. As they both ran, more rocks assaulted the door and front windows.

"Will the gate hold?" he asked.

"Who knows! You and the other footmen barricade the door. Use all of the ground floor furniture that you can find," Mrs. Potter yelled as she continued into the dining room.

"And where are you going?" Stephen roared as he ducked in reaction to the sound of another window breaking.

"To find help!" she explained over her shoulder as she yanked open the door to the kitchen below.

The two other footmen, who had been dutifully polishing silver, and Jack stared at Stephen with wide eyes as they could hear the glass breaking and stones starting to hit the windows behind them.

"Right, lads! Grab what you can and let's block the door. They can throw all the rocks they want, but we're not letting them in!"

"And why not? Why are we saving this house that's not even ours?" Jack argued as the two other footmen had begun to help Stephen but then paused as they became unsure about what to do.

"Because it's our necks! You think they're coming in for a spot of tea? The Watchmen will come and clear the streets. But in the meantime, we need to barricade the door!" Stephen grunted as he picked up one of the heaviest of the dining chairs that sat at the head of the table. Another footman rushed over to help him lift it as the other grabbed the second of the double doors to push it open.

Jack grunted and blew out the candles.

"JACK!" the other footmen shouted.

"Well if you want the house to bloody catch on fire then," Jack shrugged, and the others looked sheepish. Snuffing the candles was a good idea to prevent catastrophe if one the candelabras were knocked over.

As the group of four men began moving the contents of the dining room into the hall, they all prayed that the soldiers would arrive soon to disperse the crowd. And they blew out every candle they passed.

Mrs. Potter issued orders to the kitchen staff to help above stairs and dashed out the back delivery door. She sent a hallboy ahead of her to run to the garrison, but for Catherine Potter, she knew more help than that would be needed.

Two alleys down and a dash across Mount Street, Mrs. Potter and the maid she enlisted to go with her finally arrived at Matlock House.

"Shall we go around back?" the young maid asked, timidly. She had been in service long enough to know that the front doors were not for her kind.

"No, there is no time." Mrs. Potter marched up to the front door and used the knocker excessively until the butler opened the door. She didn't wait for a greeting. "Darcy House is being attacked by a mob! Windows have been broken. Please, find the earl."

After they gained entrance, they found both the countess and the earl were in residence, making plans for their evening out to the theatre. Mrs. Potter relayed the circumstances of the Watchmen abandoning their post, and the earl grew incensed.

"Rioting in the streets? What is Derby thinking?" Henry Fitzwilliam, the third Earl of Matlock, complained in a voice loud enough to frighten the poor maid from Darcy House.

"Dear, let's not place blame on another peer just yet. Why do we not send our guard with these ladies and you can send a personal message to the Blues. I cannot imagine the crown will want rioting so close to the palace."

"This is Northumberland's doing!" The Earl of Matlock further accused and his wife, Margaret Fitzwilliam, cautioned her husband for his bombastic ways the same way she just had, and throughout their entire marriage. She stepped directly into his line of sight and nodded her head with a mock whistling gesture from her lips. As she blew out her breath, her husband began to calm.

"Yes, yes, my apologies, Mrs. Potter," the earl offered his nephew's housekeeper the respect she was due to her position. "We shall send you with a guard and hopefully disperse this rabble. Has anyone been hurt?"

Mrs. Potter shook her head. "Not to my knowledge, your Lordship, but I cannot speak for circumstances now."

The earl nodded his head and instructed his butler to also send for Dr. Matthews. "In case anyone is unwell, or merely needs draughts of courage."

The butler escorted Mrs. Potter and the maid out towards the back as the alarm was raised for the men in Matlock's employ to arm themselves and head towards Mayfair.

"I shall go directly to the Blues," the earl spoke out loud, expecting his wife's disapproval.

"Yes, take the carriage, go directly. I did not wish to see this show anyway. The reviews have been lackluster." Lady Matlock supported her husband's plans.

"And what will you do?" he asked, as he gave the order to a waiting footman for his carriage to still be readied for his new destination.

"Someone must send word to Darcy. He left Scotland I believe, and should be in Hertfordshire with that friend of his."

The earl nodded as another footman brought him his hat and gloves.

"With any luck, he can be here on the morrow. May the good Lord see fit to spare his dwelling," Henry Fitzwilliam said, leaving his wife with a peck on her cheek.

As Lady Matlock called her favorite footman, Seamus, to attend to her in the library as she wrote out the many letters, she also wished for him to write a letter to his brother, Declan, in Kent. Margaret Fitzwilliam did not care for the troubling signs brewing in London, and she would protect her family as much as she could manage.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: I love a good carriage disagreement :) - Elizabeth Ann West_

The Darcy carriage traveled efficiently from the happy frolicking days of the couple's Scottish wedding trip to the daunting mantle of family responsibility waiting for them in the south. Elizabeth Darcy sat on the bench across from her husband and insisted her maid, Higgins, join them for much of the journey.

Such a change occurred at the first stop when the dreadful silence marred most of the first leg of their journey. Mr. Darcy did not argue with the arrangement due to his wife's delicate condition. But it was not for symptoms of carrying a child that Mrs. Darcy wished to have Higgins near. Instead, the two women talked excessively about fashions and changes to Elizabeth's wardrobe for the change in residence and season. As Scotland's summer was cooler than the English summers, much of her clothing would work well for the autumn with new trimmings and a reduction of plaids.

Between hours of chatter about gowns and bonnets and his wife's deafening silence, punctuated by the shortest answers when he asked her a direct question, Mr. Darcy's temper ran high at the last stop before they expected to reach Mr. Bingley's home. The early morning dew was long burned off by the sun when the last Darcy carriage was rigged with a new team so they could continue their travels. Mr. Darcy spied Elizabeth whispering earnestly with Higgins. Then Mrs. Darcy shooed her maid away.

Mr. Darcy walked up to the train of vehicles, after settling their bill with the innkeeper, and dared to make his wishes known.

"I should like it very much if we rode alone," he said in his master of Pemberley voice, knowing better than to have his words be an actual demand.

Elizabeth watched Higgins reach Simmons, the two women shared a conspiratorial nod, and then she smiled at her husband.

"Of course we shall ride alone. I do not wish to arrive at Netherfield Park and let Caroline Bingley believe we are quarreling. I've instructed Higgins to ride with the other servants." Elizabeth stood with her chin jutted out in pride as to her the matter was settled. But not so for her husband. And so he did not reach up to open the door and assist his wife inside, a courtesy he had been performing since their wedding over the anvil.

"You misunderstand me, Madam. I do not wish for us to ride alone for mere appearances that we are not quarreling. I wish for us not to be in a quarrel," Fitzwilliam explained.

Elizabeth began to feel annoyed. Days of morning nausea coupled with the long travel and anxieties of seeing her family after such a tragedy at Longbourn did not leave much patience in reserve for her husband.

"I, too, also do not wish to quarrel, but I cannot pretend that my feelings are settled on the entire matter. Would you prefer artifice?" she asked, unaffected by her husband's stormy expression.

Mr. Darcy clenched his fists together and then raised one hand to pull open the carriage door. Elizabeth casually reached out her hand for his to take the first step and grabbed the strap above her head for the bulk of assistance to take her position inside the carriage.

Mr. Darcy watched as his one act of opening the carriage door inspired a flutter of activity across the five vehicles traveling together in one long caravan. For such a trip, both Mr. and Mrs. Darcy had carried with them extensive luggage and obtained new belongings during their stay in Scotland. A sixth carriage with a mounted guard had peeled off the main road to head back to Pemberley with various letters for the Darcy staff there.

As Mr. Darcy looked up, he spied Elizabeth leaning forward and grinning at him with the bright countenance he remembered from before all their troubles. Her smile was all the encouragement Fitzwilliam Darcy needed to lift himself into the carriage, slam the door, and take his rightful seat next to his wife.

Elizabeth twisted in her seat so that she faced her husband.

"I am sorry that I have not yet managed to forgive you completely, I suppose."

"I do not understand why you hold such a tender regard for my sister's husband." Mr. Darcy allowed old jealousies of Mr. Wickham to cloud his assessment of his wife's emotions. Truthfully, Elizabeth had barely met George Wickham before they had gone to Hertfordshire to appeal Mr. Bennet's blessing on their marriage.

Elizabeth Darcy jerked as the carriage move forward, but would not allow a misunderstanding to grow between them. If her husband did not wish to be quarreling by the time they reached Netherfield Park, then she had to be honest. It was one of the virtues her father had instilled in her and she still respected her upbringing. Her rejection of her cousin's suit and running away with Mr. Darcy for an unorthodox path to matrimony had estranged Elizabeth from both of her parents, but she still loved them.

"I hold no additional regard for the late Mr. Wickham than I would for any man. From what I gather of the situation, he was a scoundrel of the first sort. But I have not reconciled my feelings about how little you consider my opinion. Furthermore, I have not had any counsel with my Aunt Gardiner or my sister, Jane," Elizabeth explained, believing her words sounded perfectly reasonable.

Now it was Darcy's turn to angle towards his wife and begin to throw his logic her way. "So your charges are that I do not come to you for guidance, and in the same breath you tell me that you need guidance from your sister and aunt."

"That is not fair," Elizabeth Darcy scoffed.

"I am merely trying to understand your feelings, Mrs. Darcy. Are we to come to each other for insights on our most difficult dilemmas or are we not? I was mistaken to keep Mr. Wickham's death from you, but it was done so for your benefit. I did not wish to sully our happy times in Scotland. I had already believed that I had not courted you as you deserved and the resulting guilt influenced my decision heavily."

Elizabeth pursed her lips. She did not appreciate her husband's verbal parry of her well-thought-out reasons for the emotional distance between them. She slowly began to turn away from him, but he reached out to cradle her elbow, and gently pulled her into an embrace. Elizabeth stiffened, but Mr. Darcy did not fall for such a false flag of communication. As he bent down to kiss his wife's forehead, he sighed, and slowly slid his right hand down her back to gently massage the area just above where she was seated to ease the aches from travel.

Elizabeth leaned into him so that he reached more easily to rub her back. Gently, she moaned at the relief he provided.

"Would you bar me from talking to my aunt and sister?" she asked with an earnest tone of honest inquiry.

Mr. Darcy shook his head and continued to soothe his wife with his roaming hands.

Elizabeth leaned back and looked up at the handsome face of her Fitzwilliam. "Perhaps we can make an we resolve to come to one another first about major issues affecting our family, we might still seek the counsel of others as we both deem it prudent?" Elizabeth arched an eyebrow as she waited for her husband to respond.

Fitzwilliam Darcy stared into the eyes of his Elizabeth and marveled at her evenhanded suggestion for reconciliation. She had not risen to the bait of his fallacy, but instead turned the entire situation into one that worked in her favor. He would have to agree and in doing so, he would be giving her exactly what she wanted in the first place: a promise of loyalty to her above all others.

"I believe your compromise has merits, Madam."

"But do you agree? It is important to me, Fitzwilliam, that the behavior you are asking of me is the same I can rely upon from you."

Mr. Darcy sighed and pressed their foreheads together, as an ill-timed bump in the road jostled them apart, then allowed them to reconnect with slightly more force than either found comfortable. As they both released each other to tend the minor injury, Elizabeth began to laugh.

"I can recall when I found sitting in a carriage alone with you to be so utterly romantic," she said as she began to fix her skirts and sit straighter in the seat on the bench. "Now I confess that I'm finding so much travel to be an utter bother!"

Mr. Darcy slid closer to Elizabeth so that their legs were touching. He leaned and whispered into his wife's ear. "I would say that I agree with you Madam, but it would be a falsehood." He gently kissed her neck delicately behind her ear and Elizabeth shuddered.

After he trailed a few more kisses along her hairline, their lips met in a passionate kiss. Their hands and lips found many methods to release the growing tensions that remained from their argument in Scotland, and Elizabeth did not forget that her husband had not formally agreed to her suggestion that they always come to one another first. But her heart did not care at the moment. In her mind, what could be deliberated another day with words took second precedence over what passions and stirrings could be satisfied today.


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Meddling mothers are the absolute worst... and Mrs. Bennet's logic, well it defies logic, LOL - Elizabeth Ann West_

Charles Bingley's lease on Netherfield Park would end in October after an emergency extension was agreed to by the parties. Jane Bingley stared at the long list of tasks left in her charge. Even with the extension, it would be a difficult feat to accomplish. The list ranged from a final inventory of the furnishings to help her uncle close out the property to convincing Kitty that some of her larger works of art should remain behind in the attic. They were painted in residence, after all. With so many between the Bennet and Bingley families set to leave the area, the number of wagons and carriages that could carry their belongings was finite. Jane's husband had offered to take responsibility for many of the items left to tackle, apologizing that both of his sisters had left so soon after the baptism of their twins. But Jane remained resolute to her duties.

Truthfully, the excuse of preparing to depart Netherfield offered Jane one of the few breaks in her busy day as hostess to a full house, including her displaced family. Tears, with no inclination as to their reason, brimmed at the corners of her eyes. She looked away from her impossible list and gazed out the north-facing window. The long road stretching beyond the woods remained defiantly empty as it had for days though she earnestly expected her sister Elizabeth's arrival. The last message had indicated an imminent homecoming, but until she saw the express rider that typically preceded Mr. Darcy's travels, Jane tried her best to stymie her hope.

The small parlor she used as her personal office was not decorated to Jane Bingley's tastes. Most of the furnishings outdated her by decades, upholstered in maroon velvets that were worn and the gilt framing long faded. It was furniture that she and her husband did not own.

Jane sighed and picked up her quill to add another notion to the section of her parchment that included her goals for once she and Mr. Bingley chose a house to purchase. Very carefully she inked: _furniture for my study._

A familiar, slightly uncomfortable ache began to plague her bosom, and Jane took one last look out the window before admitting to herself that her solitary time needed to end. Her daughter and son were due for their late morning feeding, and though their family did employ a wet nurse, with two mouths to feed Jane still provided much of the babes' sustenance as well.

But when Jane reached the nursery, she was hindered in her efforts to reach her children by the presence of her mother.

"I knew I would find you here. I've just come from your father's room, and he is much improved. I am certain with just one more week here at Netherfield, we shall be able to move into the Stevens' home and see to the rebuilding of Longbourn come spring." Mrs. Bennet renewed her ridiculous idea that opposed all of the plans the Bingleys held for the Bennets.

"Mama please, not this again," Jane pleaded as she walked around her mother and picked up little Lynnie from her bassinet. Jane cooed at her daughter who was far more docile in temperament than her brother, Charlie.

"I do not see why you always feed her first. You should not play favorites among your children," Mrs. Bennet advised, though it was a piece of advice Jane had never seen her mother honor.

"Little Charles is still asleep. I feed the child that is awake when it is time to feed them, nothing else. When you say Papa is much improved, what do you mean?" Jane carried her daughter over to the rocking chair and allowed her specially sewn gown to fall at the bodice. Lynn wasted no time latching on and curled her little fist right around her mother's pinky. No matter how vexed Jane Bingley felt with her mother and her two sisters, Mary and Lydia, who also objected to moving so far away from Hertfordshire, comforting her children always brought her joy. She looked up at her mother expecting an answer, and Mrs. Bennet faltered.

"Why would you trouble me with such a question? I have known your father for over two decades, and I know precisely when he is about to make a turn for the better. Mark my words, he shall walk again." Mrs. Bennet's words were shaky as she voiced them, and Jane reached up to stroke her daughter's cheek as the babe fed.

Jane gulped before she braved telling her mother about the expected arrival of the Darcys that very day.

"But with the distance being so far, it also could be tomorrow or the next day," Jane tempered the news so her mother did not fall into a fit. "Once Lizzie arrives, I am certain that we can determine an appropriate solution for all. You know Papa would wish for us all to remain together, Mama. There is just no house available in the nearby countryside large enough for all of us."

"If we rebuilt Longbourn . . ." Mrs. Bennet trailed off and though she liked to get her own way, even Fanny Bennet was intelligent enough to reason Longbourn would not be large enough to house two families. And it would never pass to Mr. Bingley, so there would be no incentive for him to reside there and take up the reins.

So instead, she changed her mind entirely.

"But Pemberley is so far!" Mrs. Bennet complained, loudly enough to wake up her grandson.

The nursemaid immediately stood up from where she was folding laundry in the corner and picked up the child to see to his needs, but Mrs. Bennet intervened. "No, no, go take Lynnie from Mrs. Bingley," Mrs. Bennet stated as she picked up her grandson and brought the child to her daughter.

Jane groaned, but not wishing to have another argument, she kissed Lynn's forehead and surrendered her to the wetnurse. Adjusting her gown, she accepted her son from her mother and offered him her other breast. Jane thought to point out to her mother that her insistence on her feeding both children doubled her work while sparing the nursemaid, but truthfully, Jane did not mind. The difficult part would be traveling so far with the children so young. Her Aunt Gardiner had given her more than a few horror stories of how messy traveling with babes could be.

Once little Charlie was settled, though Jane had to adjust her position since her son did not prefer to nurse in the same attitude as his sister, she remembered her mother's objections.

"Derbyshire is a good distance from our neighborhood, but Charles has assured me the home is more than adequate to provide all of us the time and comfort we all need. Papa will have a suite organized for his specific needs and convalescence. And think of how you will get to help Lizzie plan the entertainment and dinner parties only a home of that scale can provide."

Mrs. Bennet crossed her arms since both children were being tended, there was little employment for her. There was not an extra chair in the nursery, and she saw the interview with her eldest daughter as unsatisfactory.

"All of this is Lizzie's fault."

Jane startled her son by jerking her head up to glare at her mother's outrageous accusation. Charlie began to cry as Jane offered the child a soft apology and helped him settle once more.

"Mother, if you are going to say such upsetting things, I beg you to please leave the nursery." Jane was firm in her words, reflecting on the reminder from her husband that if she did not wish for her mother to trample all over her, she had to assert herself as mistress in the household.

"But I am speaking the truth, surely you can see that," Mrs. Bennet said, regulating her voice to a lower volume.

Jane's emotions began to sour as Charlie's feeding efforts pained her. The boy was likely working on his first tooth, and often gummed her delicate skin when it was time to feed. Jane shuddered at the shock of the pain and jostled Little Charlie to distract him from his aims of soothing his gums and return him to the task at hand.

"Because I know you will explain your ridiculous logic, I will humor this discussion. But if I find it to be without merit, you will not say such a statement to Lizzie or Mr. Darcy when they arrive."

Jane's small allowance was all the opportunity Mrs. Bennet needed to air her grievances.

"If Lizzie had married Mr. Collins, as your father and I instructed her to do so, Longborn would never have caught fire," Mrs. Bennet explained as though the trail from one statement to the next was entirely linear and well reasoned.

Jane shook her head. "That makes no sense at all, Mama."

"Does it not? If she had not upset your father so, there would be no discord in our family. You married Mr. Bingley, you were the obedient daughter. But not Lizzie! And even when she was confronted with the folly of her choices, she still ran away. How do we even know they are wedded? An elopement to Scotland! Your father had it on good authority that they went back to Pemberley and no further." Mrs. Bennet charged as Jane once again winced as Charlie misbehaved. Finding her patience to be at an end, Jane lifted her son to her other shoulder to burp as she looked over at the wetnurse with Lynn. Her daughter appeared to be finished, and Jane carefully stood to swap the children. Lynn happily gurgled in her mother's arms, as Jane began the necessary task that all babies required after feeding by changing her napkin.

"For heaven's sake, call another maid!" Mrs. Bennet again insulted her daughter's care of her own children, and Jane ignored her.

"Have you forgotten how viciously Mr. Collins beat Elizabeth in Kent? I saw her injuries, Mother, and I cannot agree with you that my sister should have married such a brute."

Mrs. Bennet walked over to the pile of laundry the nurse had been folding and selected a clean gown to bring to her daughter for little Lynn.

"Do you think if Lizzie had married Mr. Collins, your father would've allowed her to move to Kent with him? Oh no, Janie, such an event would not have even occurred. No, your father intended for them to live at Longbourn and for Mr. Collins to give up his position with the Church."

Mrs. Bennet explained the plans for her least favorite daughter and did not add that she had been opposed to her husband's wishes. It would have fallen to her to allow Lizzie to help her with the day-to-day running of the household. Now, thanks to her headstrong daughter's ways, Mrs. Bennet did not even have a home to run.

As another maid did appear to help tend the children, Jane shared a glance with the wetnurse that conveyed the woman would not carry tales elsewhere. A permanent position with the Bingley family depended upon her discretion.

"Mama, let's retire to my parlor down the hall." Jane paused in placating her mother to kiss her children a temporary farewell. She and Charles always saw them before dinner. "I will call for refreshments, and we can discuss your concerns more thoroughly." Jane ushered her mother out and left Mrs. Bennet no choice but to retreat towards the door.

"You see? I knew you would understand," Mrs. Bennet smugly left the nursery with her head high, confident that her eldest daughter would support her.

Jane prayed that she could provide her mother with enough time to vent her spleen before the Darcys arrived and warn Lizzie of the lunacy before Mrs. Bennet offended others.


	4. Chapter 4

This book is now in Amazon's Kindle Unlimited program along with the entire series thus far and requires exclusivity there. Thank you for the years of support of this story on :)

XOXOX  
Elizabeth Ann West


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